


Private Party/Dancing

by lesdemonium (winnerstick), winnerstick



Series: Romtober 2020 [18]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Established Relationship, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, v light whump tho he's fine tis but a flesh wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27082324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/lesdemonium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/winnerstick
Summary: Geralt is injured and Jaskier insists on leaving a banquet to take care of him. Geralt insists Jaskier goes back.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Romtober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949827
Comments: 9
Kudos: 245





	Private Party/Dancing

“Jaskier, you have to go back,” Geralt insisted. 

His insistence fell on deaf ears, however, and he wasn’t surprised. The last six times he had said it, Jaskier had ignored him as well. Instead, Jaskier continued trudging on, taking Geralt back to their room at the inn. There was something infuriating about it--how Jaskier would not listen to Geralt no matter how many times Geralt insisted he was fine. Geralt couldn’t put up much of a fuss, though. He was bleeding too much.

“Lay here, and  _ do not _ try to get up,” Jaskier warned with a hard look as he placed Geralt on the bed.

Geralt, of course, would do no such thing. As soon as Jaskier turned his back, Geralt was sitting himself up, trying to get to his pack.

“Geralt! Melitele--will you just  _ lay back _ . I know you bear not even the modest amount of concern for yourself, but you are getting blood  _ everywhere _ . I promise I will not hold it against you that for once you had to depend on the help of some mere human, but I really  _ must insist _ .” Jaskier’s rant grew more frantic as he wheeled around and pushed Geralt none-too-gently back to the bed.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, taking hold of Jaskier’s wrists as they pushed Geralt’s chest. “You were having a good time. You said this was the biggest night of your life as a bard. You have to go back.”

It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault that Geralt’s hunt had gone badly. Geralt had tried to hide his wound as he alerted the lord of the castle that the Alghouls had been taken care of. The lord hadn’t even cared--he wished to return to his party, apparently, and had waved Geralt off, almost forgetting payment. Jaskier, of course, had noticed the way Geralt was hugging his side and slightly limping. It was slight. Geralt had years of experience hiding injuries; no one wanted to know when a beast got the best of a Witcher. But Jaskier always noticed.

Noticed, and insisted that they both leave the party immediately to care for Geralt.

“Geralt, if you say that one more time, I swear to the  _ Gods _ \--” he cut himself off with a frustrated noise and instead of continuing, he turned and pulled out all manner of supplies from Geralt’s bag. 

“Are you going to let me do this, or am I going to have to get mean?” Jaskier asked. He pulled up a chair and sat heavily on it, and fixed Geralt with a look so withering, Geralt was  _ almost _ afraid of him.

Almost. He was curious what a  _ mean _ Jaskier would look like, but he hardly thought exploring that particular line of thought was appropriate right now. He didn’t need his blood rushing anywhere when it was actively coming out of his body. 

Satisfied that Geralt wasn’t going to object, Jaskier worked silently to patch Geralt up. Really, it wasn’t that bad of a wound. It would leave behind a scar, Geralt was sure, but that was hardly a quality of severity on Geralt’s scale. But as Jaskier cleaned and bandaged it, Geralt could see the beginning of the healing process. It didn’t even need to be stitched together. Once Jaskier was done, Geralt cupped Jaskier’s jaw.

“You should go back. I’m okay now. You made a fine healer.”

Jaskier frowned at him, then shook his head and pulled away. He packed away the supplies slowly, far slower than was strictly necessary, and when he finally turned back to Geralt again, he was still frowning and his hands settled on his hips.

“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt blinked. “I’m not. I only wanted--you shouldn't have had to leave because of me.” Geralt shrugged. “You like those banquets. You said it was a big night for you. I don’t want to cut it short.”

Jaskier shook his head, then sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand held Geralt’s ankle. “You didn’t make me do anything, Geralt. Of course I’m going to come help you.”

“You helped me. Now you can go back.”

“What if I don’t want to go back?” Jaskier asked, raising an eyebrow. “What if I’ve decided I’ve had my fill of the party and want to stay here with you?”

“Then I’d call you a liar.”

“And you call me the cynic.”

Geralt sighed and Jaskier grinned back at him. “Come on,” he said, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed as well. “I’ll escort you back, if you’re going to be so difficult about it.”

He held out his hand, but Jaskier simply stared at it. “Geralt, I’m not going back. This is it for the night.”

“No,” Geralt answered. He stood up, then held his hand out with an insistent thrust in Jaskier’s direction. Jaskier did not take it. Geralt took Jaskier’s hand and hauled him to his feet. “The night is still young. Let’s go.”

Geralt tried to tug Jaskier in the direction of the door, but Jaskier remained firmly planted. Geralt stopped and looked at Jaskier helplessly, only to be met with a hard look from Jaskier.

“Jaskier, you’re missing out on the party. You love all those things--music, dancing, pretty people--you can’t just stay locked up in this room because I got hurt.” Geralt sighed and tried pulling Jaskier forward again. Jaskier still would not move. Instead, he tugged Geralt back toward him.

“Then dance with me.”

That gave Geralt pause. “What?”

“If you’re so worried about me missing out on things I enjoy, then dance with me. Here, right now.” Jaskier tugged Geralt’s arm again, a bid for Geralt to come closer. “We don’t have music, but I like the intimacy of this room. Plus, I can kiss you more, like this, without worrying about others thinking it’s  _ untoward _ .”

“Jaskier, that isn’t--”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said firmly. “If you mean to tell me one more time what it is  _ I _ want, then you’re going to have a head injury to tend to shortly. Now get over here and dance with me.”

Geralt sighed again, but Jaskier was now doing that pouting thing with his lip that he only did when he earnestly wanted something, and it drew Geralt in every time. So, instead of arguing more, Geralt gathered Jaskier in his arms, and they danced. Awkwardly, at first; Geralt was an uncomfortable dancer to begin with, but without even the benefit of music, he found himself a bit lost. Eventually, though, they found their own rhythm, and the next time Geralt sighed, it was with contentment. Jaskier echoed him.

“This is far better than any public event would have been,” Jaskier said, his head on Geralt’s chest. Geralt had to agree.


End file.
